


New Years Eve 1640

by mistressterably



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-03
Updated: 2016-01-03
Packaged: 2018-05-11 12:27:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5626690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mistressterably/pseuds/mistressterably
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two hours to midnight on 12/31/2015 and I was prompted to do a Cardinal / Clara story. Finished with 49 minutes to spare in 2015.</p>
            </blockquote>





	New Years Eve 1640

Clara walked confidently through the halls of Versailles. The Doctor had gone off chasing some crazed alien and left her to her own devices. What on earth was she to do on her own? She overheard other ladies as they glided quietly along the mirrored hall discussing what they would wear to the Le Reveillon that evening. Only then did Clara realize that it was New Years Eve! She was going to spend New Year’s Eve at Versailles in 1640’s France!

She didn’t really know what the traditions were but she could roll with it. That was one thing she had learned very well from the Doctor. ‘Act like you know what you’re doing and that you belong, Clara.’ His voice rang in her head. ‘It works every time.’ Perhaps not always, Clara smiled to herself. 

Tagging along behind the flock of women, Clara caught more details of the evening’s events and she cheekily managed to worm her way into a lady’s dressing room that looked as if the lady in question was out of the Palace for the evening and was able to get herself into a fancy gown and, partaking of some wine that she had found, Clara relaxed until she heard some bells chime out. ‘Dinner bell!’ Clara laughed at her own joke and was soon joining the flow of Lords and Ladies to the Great Hall of Mirrors. 

Tables were laid out for a great feast. Clara, seated between two young Lord’s (or more likely followers of Lords who’d just managed to get invited as an aside) who were spending time between her and the other young Ladies on either side of them. The flirting was flying thick and fast, just like the champagne and the courses of oysters, goose and turkey. 

At the head of the great table, the King stood finally with a clap of his hands to get everyone’s attention. 

‘To the grounds!’ The King cried out, signalling all to head to the Palace Gardens. The excitement of the gathered members of the aristocracy grew as they all streamed out the now open doors to the gardens. Clara, simply because of where she had been seated was one of the first out and, acting like she belonged was soon finding a place near to the King’s raised dais to watch the coming fireworks display. 

Clara was getting as excited as the gathered gentry as the crowd buzzed. She could see the scampering of men in the gardens with torches finishing their last preparations. 

A large hand rested on the small of her back suddenly and Clara jumped. ‘Oh!’ She turned towards the person who had touched her and found the Doctor standing there. ‘Doctor, you gave me a fright.’

‘Doctor?’ The older man’s eyebrow arched with curiosity at her.

Clara had to look again and then realized that the man beside her was not the Doctor but a man who looked like his twin! ‘I’m incredibly sorry! You reminded me of a friend.’

‘Well, if the fellow is your friend then you have excellent taste.’ The man, his silver-gray hair cut close and held under a skullcap, sported a mustache and goatee. A quick glance at his garb and the large gold cross at his chest and Clara was quickly realizing the man she was talking to was likely a high ranking cleric that was a member of the King’s court. He was taking her hand in his lightly and, with a bow, he raised it to his lips and kissed her warmly. His eyes, gazing at her through similar bushy eyebrows, was certainly not the friendly gaze she was used to from the Doctor. No, not at all. This man oozed sexuality. ANd his eyes were boring into hers as if to strip her down to her soul, leaving her naked to all his desires. She felt butterflies in her stomach and growing wetness between her legs. 

‘You are too kind, my Lord.’

‘The proper address would be Your Eminence.’ He corrected her but still held her hand in his. ‘You are new to the court?’

‘Yes, I am.’ Clara explained. Keeping her details brief. 

‘Then allow me to introduce myself. I am Armand Jean du Plessis, Cardinal Richelieu. I would be honoured if you would simply call me Armand.’

This man was a definite charmer, Clara thought and curtsied to him. And he was doing things to her that she could only ever hope the Doctor would do to her. Roll with it, she told herself. “It is I who would be honoured to address you as Armand.’

‘Wonderful.’ He kissed her hand once more. Holding her hand, ‘The view by the King’s side will be much better. Would you care to be my guest?’

‘I would love that, Armand!’ Clara declared and soon, he was leading her up the short flight of stairs and settling her on a velvet chair beside him. There were a number of courtiers between the Cardinal and Clara so she wasn’t brought to the King’s attention except for a very brief and formal introduction. In the company of the Cardinal, Clara found herself treated to the best wines and wonderful cakes. La galettes des rois, she learned. And they were so light a pastry and were such delights to eat! 

Shortly after the cakes had been served and the wine topped up by the servants, the fireworks display began. Clara was genuinely delighted at the loud bangs and bright lights. ‘A truly royal display!’ Clara said at one point, her hand tight around the Cardinal’s. As it ended and the King declared the evening’s festivities over, Clara was following Armand down from the dais and with a servant bearing a torch in front of them to light the way. He guided her to an elaborate coach. ‘May I have you taken somewhere?’

‘Oh, I was just staying at a local inn.’ Clara lied. 

‘Ah, well, we can’t have a beauty such as you in such a low place. Come. You can lodge at my home this evening.’

‘Oh! I couldn’t.’ Clara protested, thinking she was pushing her luck. 

‘I insist, my darling.’ Not allowing her any further protest, Armand was helping her into the coach and helping her settle on the cushions. Soon, it was rattling along the cobbled streets towards his home. He glanced at her often and Clara caught him licking his lips as he did so. The growing desire inside her was pushing all thoughts of ‘behaving’ out of her mind. 

Not soon enough, the coach arrived and came to a halt. The footman was opening the door and the steps were lowered. The footman helped her down and then the doorman was opening the door for them. Servants scurried about to light their way to his chamber. Clara thought for a moment that she would be led to a different room but no, she was soon standing in a large room with a blazing fire going in the fireplace. Warmed wine was poured by a manservant and Armand’s heavy red cloak was removed from his shoulders. A be-ringed finger waved the servant away and it was Armand who poured her a glass of wine. 

Soon, the effects of the excellent food and the flowing wine had Clara flushed and feeling very hot in her heavy, borrowed gown. In the firelight, Clara found herself in Armand’s arms being led in a slow dance. The music was coming from a nearby tavern. He was lifting her hands to kiss them again. His lips were soft. His goatee and mustache were soft as well despite her imaging them to be coarse. She breathed in steadily, his musky scent intoxicating her. She tilted her head up to look into his eyes and he was bending to her lips. That first kiss was soft and light, his tongue just barely touching her lips. Clara, her modern sensibilities taking over, was threading her fingers into his short hair, stopping him from breaking the kiss when he thought to initially. 

This was a different feeling for Armand, a woman taking more control than he was accustomed to. It was different enough to make his passion rise higher and they were both eager to be free of their clothing. For him, the last article to be removed was the heavy cross from around his neck. For Clara it was the linen shift under her gown. Unlike the standard of women he courted normally, the short-trimmed bush of her center thrilled him. His fingers explored her and Clara was willingly urging closer to his touch. A long finger delving between her legs, coming away dripping wet from her desire. Armand’s lips parted and he was crushing his mouth to hers once more, no hint of gentlemanly courting now. Just unbridled passion and aching.  
.   
Clara was walking back toward the large bed, drawing him with her and soon she lay back on it. Her hands on his arms to pull him on top of her. For her this was a heady mix of the sexual power this man exuded and the long-held fantasy of what she wanted from her Doctor. 

His entry into her was urgent and hungry. Their hips grinding against one another. At first they were out of sync but then came that moment when they fell into the same rhythm. His thrust driving into her as her hips rose up to meet him. He groaned passionately as he drove her beyond sanity. He welcomed the pain of her nails in his back as they dug in, urging him on harder and faster. 

Clara was lost in the moment. Giving in to her animal passion to call to him, her breathing fast and hot on his skin. Her words harsh in his ears as she begged him to fuck her over and over. Then her legs wrapping around him, clasping him tight. His buttocks tightening and relaxing with each deep impaling thrust. He closed his eyes, his face buried against her soft breasts as he released himself inside her. Her cry was loud as she let herself go in ecstasy. Her mouth crushing against his, biting his lip in her orgasm. 

Drained for the moment, Armand pulled from her and lay at her side. His chest rose and fell as he tried to steady himself. The music from the tavern had ended and in the distance were fresh rounds of fireworks. 

Clara, her body relaxing, turned on her side and running her hand over his grey-haired chest to tease him lightly. ‘Happy New Year, Armand.’


End file.
